To Die Forever
by Bradykins98
Summary: Two days, two days since M died, and I'm back in action with a fourteen year-old 00 as my partner, a beautiful teenage genius as my Q and my oldest friend and enemy as my saviour. Funny how karma works, isn't it?
1. A new day, a new job

To Die Forever

A James Bond story

It was that dream again, that living nightmare. Silva with his gun pressed into her hand, their heads pressed together. The knife in your hand flies into his back with a sickening squelch and a roar of agony. He collapses to the floor, his life ended by a small piece of stainless steel. Then she looks up, a sort of emptiness in her eyes, the dark red patch on her waist spreading. You know she won't make it. She falls to the ground, yet another "patriot who bravely died in the line of duty". Yet another good friend dead. Yet another face to haunt your sleepless nights. That is the life you choose to lead. That is the life of a double 0. That is the life of James Bond.

Bond wakes with a start, a thin layer of sweat on his scarcely clothed body. He climbs out of bed, running a hand through his close cropped blond, slightly greying, hair. His crystal clear blue eyes scan the room from left to right. He feels under his bed, and pulls out his MI6 standard issue Walther PPK/S 9mm pistol. It's cocked and loaded, with the new fingerprint recognition system in place, so only Bond can fire it. When Q had given him it, he was severely unimpressed. All he was given was a gun and a radio. He'd said sarcastically that it was like Christmas. Ironically, that gun had saved his life more times than he could remember, so he now jokingly refers to it as his best present ever. Bond removes the magazine and round in the chamber, reinserting the round back into the magazine and placing them on his bedside table.

He had forgotten to shave in the last two days, and had thick stubble around his jaw line and upper lip. He reached for the bottle of Jack Daniels he left next to his bed, pulled off the lip with a pop, and took a long gulp of the bitter golden alcohol. He'd started drinking again, and it was worse than before. He'd refused to touch any kind of pills though. The cheap Nokia on his dinner table rung, its melody waking him from his trance. He walked over and checked the number, even though he knew it would be blocked. He picks it up and answers.

"Bond here, who is this?"

"007, I need to see you." replies Gareth Mallory, the new M. At first, Bond had thought he was just another pencil neck desk jockey, but he'd proven James wrong in Westminster, saving the previous M and killing one of Silva's henchmen, although he'd taken a bullet to the shoulder and a George Cross to the chest for his valour.

"Is this another debriefing?"

"No, it's about the new 008; you need to meet him, mainly because he's coming with you on your mission to Northern Ireland." Is Mallory's reply to his second question.

"I don't need help, remember what happened last time?" He was referring to the mission in Istanbul, where he was accidentally shot and left for dead.

"Look, James, this is out of my hands. It's not my call, it's the PM's, just get your bloody arse here for 10:30 AM sharp." With that exasperated and angry response Mallory hangs up, his point made. Bond hesitates for a second, unsure of what to do. He finally decides to get fully dressed, and picks a pair of neat, ironed black trousers, a crisp white shirt and a dark grey jacket. He then grabs his PPK, loads, cocks it and places it in his inside pocket. He then steps outside his small, two bedroom, detached house and climbs into his classic Aston Martin DB5, his second since his first was destroyed two days ago. He set off for MI6 in London, unaware that he would soon be going into the most dangerous mission of his life.

DISCLAMER: I DO NOT OWN JAMES BOND OR ANY CHARACTERS OR THINGS REFERENCED

PLEASE REVIEW AND FAVOURITE, IT WILL GET BETTER


	2. A New Recruit, An Old Timer

Jake Mullen liked to wake up peacefully, with lots of time to wake up and become aware of his surroundings. That's why he was still in bed, even though his eyes were open and his body was moving, but his brain wasn't awake. He climbed out of bed slowly, the covers sliding off, revealing his bare, slightly muscular torso, with several fragmentation scars that no ordinary fourteen-year-old should have. He got out of bed, checking that his Glock 17 was still on his table, loaded with seventeen 9mm rounds if, as Jake puts it; "the shizzle hits the beeswax".

He knew that M wanted to see him today, something about meeting another 00 and a mission. The latter he was pleased by, as after Miami, Jake desperately wanted to get back in action. However he didn't like the thought of another 00, probably someone who thought that he knew nothing because he's "just a teenager". Tell that to the drugs gangs in Miami.

Jake put on some jeans and his Liverpool FC shirt, the only thing he had of his life before MI5 and now the 00 branch of MI6. He picked up his Glock, sliding it into his secret inside pocket. Just because it was his only reminder he was normal doesn't mean he can't have some fun with it. He grabbed his trademark battered leather jacket off the coat hanger, and stepped outside into the crisp autumn morning. He ran a hand through his nearly crew-cut brown hair as he walked to the train station.

(Bond POV)

James walked through the main entrance to the MI6 building. Whilst the grandiose scale of the place impressed many veteran intelligence officers, Bond found it dull. But he had been playing this game longer than most people in this room had been alive. Nearing fifty, he should have retired from the 00's and taken a desk job many years ago. But Bond hated desk jobs more than anything, and he was still as good as anyone, so he carried on. He took the elevator up to the sixth floor, where M's office was. He walked briskly out and walked over to Eve. Eve Moneypenny was tall, elegant and had enough charm for both her and her fiancé. James grins, a real grin, a rare occasion as he is glad to see his friend again. "James." She greets him with a flirty tone; despite he's around twice her age and the engagement ring on her index finger.

"Eve, good to see you, how's Michael?" Bond replies, unusually cheery.

"Good, finally got a date. Next Valentine's" She answers with pride and love in her voice.

"Romantic. Anyway, apparently M wants to see me. Is he in his office?" Bond changes his expression and the subject.

"He's right inside, talking to a teen?" Eve sounds confused.

"I'm sure it's for a reason." Bond says as he knocks on the door to M's office.

"Come in." comes his reply from inside. Bond opens the door and steps inside. He see's M, a confident half-smile on his face, his feet resting on his solid oak desk, sitting on a leather recliner. In one of the other seats sits a boy, probably around sixteen, muscular, good looking, with a near crew cut and storm-cloud grey eyes. He's wearing a worn-out leather jacket, jeans and a Liverpool FC shirt. He nods a silent greeting to Bond as M welcomes him. "Ah 007, good to see you. Take a seat, I'd like to introduce you to your new partner."


End file.
